Quintessentially quince

Our fortnightly foodie column by Sarah La Touche.
Does anybody here do anything with quinces anymore? Anyone else besides me, that is. Or has this wondrous exotic fruit become another casualty of our very modern, convenient society? Without a doubt it is one of the Queens of the autumn fruits. Quick and easy to prepare, it is not. Which is why, I suspect, it is hard to find in fruit and veggie shops (we won’t even consider the supermarket) around about now. And, which is why we planted two quince trees in our garden on our return from France. Because unless you know someone with a tree in their garden, chances are slim that you will be able to make your favourite quince jelly, pâte de coing (that’s French for quince paste, dulce de Membrillo in Spain), or poached quinces in verjuice.
The other reason we planted our trees is that they must have one of the most beautiful blossoms of all the fruit trees – wide, pale pink flowers burst forth first, followed immediately by similarly wide, iridescent green leaves that frame the delicate flowers which eventually become large, soft-yellow, pear-shaped, perfumed, downy fruit. By autumn they are ready to pick, to do with what you will.
The great thing about quinces is that they work fantastically well with savoury flavours as well as sweet; a tajine of chicken with quince, for example. They are a sour and almost inedible fruit raw but with some long, slow cooking this ancient Asiatic, heady fruit transforms itself to gastronomic heights. Their musky perfume will envelope the whole room whilst they cook. Actually, their perfume is one of their most striking attributes – the French not only used it in cooking but also extracted an essential oil from the fruit for use in perfumery and medicine for centuries.
Perhaps my most favourite way to enjoy them on the sweet side is slow poached in verjuice, with orange zest, cinnamon and star anise. Rich, robust and texturally pleasing with a depth of flavour I have not found in any other fruit when cooked. No need to add anything else once cooked except perhaps a scoop of homemade vanilla-bean ice cream, or a dab of crème fraîche if you like that sort of thing.
They are good baked in the oven prepared just like you would baked apple, only peel them as well as coring them, baste them a bit more, and cook them a bit longer. You’ll know when quinces are done; they turn a beautiful shade of pink, rather like the colour of guava, and go from rock hard to soft. Some slices of poached quince, or a square of firm quince paste works wonders with a flavoursome aged cheddar with a good bite to it, or Gouda too. You’ll think you have died and gone to heaven.
To prepare these beauties, first rub off the down on the exterior with a cloth before washing them. Cut them in to quarters or eights. This takes a bit of effort as they are as hard as a rock; peel and core them well, another aspect of the job requiring patience and a steady hand but believe me, your patience will be rewarded, I promise. Now they are ready to be poached, roasted, sautéed or braised. The Greeks even ate them hollowed out, filled with honey and cooked in pastry cases. Extremely high in pectin and low in sugar (33 calories per 100 grams of fruit) they make fine jellies, jams, conserves and sweetmeats

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